


Gimme Danger

by Blanquette



Category: Monsta X (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Worship, First Love, Fluff, Lost Love, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Self-Esteem Issues, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 04:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17257220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanquette/pseuds/Blanquette
Summary: When Yoongi steps in that bar he doesn't expect to meet someone he thought was lost.





	Gimme Danger

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So what can I say. I did it. I wrote porn. It's the first time so yeah. Don't roast me too much.

**1.**

Snow started melting right after the new year. Yoongi sloshes around, dirty water seeping in his shoes, a deep shiver curling against his spine. The lights of the bar flicker at the end of the alley, farther away than he remembers. He curses softly, shaking his head to get the humidity out of his hair; he already regrets dying them mint again. He looks like some sort of hoodlum, he knows, with his shabby winter coat and dirty shoes, but he doesn’t have the energy to try. He just wants a quiet drink in a quiet bar, two hours to himself where he can escape his cramped apartment, phone turned off and dead to the world.

Yoongi’s thick-framed glasses fog up when he steps in, the sudden warmth of the bar almost suffocating him. He shrugs off his coat, his too-big sweater underneath yawning at the neckline, not helping his overall state of disarray. The bar is almost empty, and it figures, Yoongi thinks, after the general merriment of the new year’s celebrations. He tries to remember what he did for new year, failing that, he sits at the bar, waving to the tall bartender he can never remember the name of. The guy doesn’t see him, engrossed as he is in a conversation with a man sitting at the other end. Yoongi doesn’t mind; he’s got all the time in the world. He pushes off his glasses, pillowing his head on his arms, and waits.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. What will it be?”

It is entirely possible that Yoongi dozed off for a brief while. He looks up, to the tall bartender who stares back at him with an unsure smile. Yoongi tries to mirror it, fails when he has to yawn, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them before putting his glasses back on.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“I can see that.”

“I’ll just have, er… I don’t know, what’s that fancy bottle behind you?”

The bartender looks back over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“That’s nikka yoichi whiskey. It’s a scotch, smokey. And fancy, yeah.”

“Great. I’ll have that.”

The bartender is still staring at him with his eyebrow raised and Yoongi starts to feel self-conscious.

“I know I look like a bum but I do have money.”

The guy laughs, shaking his head as he fishes a whiskey glass from underneath the counter.

“I wasn’t thinking that. You don’t look like a bum. Just tired. Straight or…?”

Yoongi stares dumbly for a split second until he realizes the guy is talking about his drink.

“Neat.”

A nod, and the nice bottle leaves its shelf, the amber liquid poured into his glass with a practiced hand. It looks nice. It smells nice. Yoongi already feels better.

“Thanks.”

“Enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Yoongi nods, watches as the guy slides back down the counter to pick up his conversation with the other man sitting there. Yoongi absently watches them, sipping his drink. He watches them still when something stirs at the back of his mind. Vague souvenirs belonging to another life, and the more he stares the more detailed they become. He knows the guy. He knows him. His hand sweats around his glass and he stares down into his drink, suddenly very aware of himself, of the ich on his skin, of his heartbeat, too loud against his ribs.

Yoongi spares another glance at the man, and he’s sure, it’s him alright. Nothing much is left from the scrawny kid he remembers, though. The scared and bruised boy he knew grew thin but wiry; there’s swirling ink, etched on his skin where it shows, the sleeves of his white sweater pulled back on his forearms. The silvers studs in his ears catch the light, dim as it is, and Yoongi keeps staring, transfixed. He keeps staring until the guy spares him an uninterested glance, until the bartender leaves to take care of other clients, until a song comes on that he knows well, until the guy looks back at him and mouths words.

Yoongi’s head snaps back to the shelves of liquors in front of him and he puts all his energy into not turning his gaze away. But there’s the scrap of a barstool, footsteps coming towards him, and a voice, a stranger’s voice that he doesn’t recognize at all.

“What is it? You’ve been staring.”

It’s not hostile, just questioning, and Yoongi swallows a sip of whiskey that burns his throat on the way down. He turns to look at the man, and he didn’t remember his eyes to be this dark.

“Sorry. I just, I think I know you.”

“You know me?”

“Yeah, from, er, from when we were kids? You’re from Daegu, right? Kihyun? Yoo Kihyun?”

The guy just stares at him in silence and Yoongi starts wondering if maybe he got it wrong. If maybe he got it right, but the guy just doesn’t remember him, and it would be worse, because – _because they held hands secretly and shared stilted smiles and a timid kiss hidden in a middle school bathroom but the eyes were full of fears when he pulled back and he ran away as fast as he could, and –_

“Yoongi something, right?”

“Yeah. Min. Min Yoongi.”

The guy nods, once, and something like relief spills in Yoongi’s chest, a timid smile making its way onto his lips. But the guy – Kihyun, it’s Kihyun, he still looks like he bit into something sour. And suddenly Yoongi regrets everything. His stupid minty hair and his shoes full of water, his worn-out sweater yawning on his collarbones, his too-thick glasses and his stupid little fifteen-year-old stunted legs who carried him away too far, too fast. He powers through, though, because he’s Min Yoongi and he never knows what’s good for him.

“When did you, er, when did you come to Seoul?”

Kihyun tilts his head, and Yoongi has the sudden, strange urge to touch the shaved side of his hair. But Kihyun now looks like the kind of person who would bite his fingers off if he tried that kind of nonsense, so his hands stay sensibly folded in his lap.

“Not long after you did, I think.”

Maybe it’s his voice, that shocks Yoongi the most. They’re both men, now, grown-up and responsible, with men voices that carry over the sounds the bar surrounding them, strong voices, no traces of fear left in them.

“Cool, cool. How have you been?”

There it is, a smile, but Yoongi has the distinct impression it is making fun of him. Kihyun settles in the barstool next to his, takes his whiskey out of his hand, and downs what’s left of the drink. Yoongi watches his throat bob and something itches in his chest. He barely catches the emptied glass Kihyun slides back to him.

“Good. I’ve been good. What about you?”

It’s still there, the smile, just on the verge of teasing, and it rouses quarrelsome feelings in Yoongi. Suddenly he’s pissed, and he doesn’t even know why. But Kihyun is there, leaning against the bar, a hand supporting his chin, with his stupid little smile and stupid tattoos and stupid hair and his stupid sweater that actually fit him. Yoongi can feel the guy staring, sees his gaze dip to his exposed collarbones, and his belligerent mood is extinguished by a wave of self-consciousness.

“I’m sorry I ran away.”

“What?”

“That– that time when, you know. When I… when I kissed you. Back in middle school.”

There’s a silence, Kihyun staring intently at him, and Yoongi tries not to wince, wishing the barstool would suddenly crumble, sending him to break his skull against the counter.

“Would you run away now?”

“What?” 

Kihyun looks like a cat, Yoongi realizes, head tilted and almond eyes shining of a dangerous light. A cat ready to pounce.

“If I kissed you now, would you run away?”

“I– Wh– Why would you do that?”

Yoongi watches as the tip of a pink tongue wets the corner of the other’s lips, and suddenly Kihyun is off his stool, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging.

“Come on.”

“What?”

Yoongi has the distinct impression that is all he’s saying, lately.

“You owe me.”

 

**2.**

His back hits the wall of a bathroom stall and Kihyun is there, Kihyun is there and smirking.

“Brings back old times, uh?”

And it does, but there were more space to share when it was two terrified fifteen years old. Kihyun is too close and Yoongi’s throat is dry.

“Yeah, uh, what’s happening?”

“I didn’t lock the door. You can leave.”

Yoongi stares, and finds that he doesn’t want to. So he extends a hand, catching the little locket between his fingers, and slides it into place. Kihyun’s predatory smile widens, and Yoongi closes his eyes, listening to the music reaching them from the bar. _Gimme danger, little stranger._ He wonders if the bartender did it on purpose. _Gimme danger, little stranger, and I’ll heal your disease._ Yoongi tries to stop his mind, tries only to feel. The hands ghosting over his sides, the body pressing against his, the lips, the lips, warm and inviting, and he finally raises his hands to the other’s hair, grazing the short side, gripping the longer locks, a little roughly, when the other keeps teasing. Kihyun doesn’t touch him, not really, doesn’t really kiss him either, and Yoongi – Yoongi can’t stand it, Yoongi’s mad again, he is, and he pushes Kihyun back against the other side, pressing against him, and he’s the one who kisses him, and it was years in the waiting, this kiss.

This time when he pulls back there’s no fear in the dark eyes; only hunger. Yoongi licks his lips, and he wants to say something but he’s never been good with words, not like this, and Kihyun’s lips are spit slick and shiny, and Yoongi just. Yoongi loses his mind a little bit.

There is nothing nice about their next kiss. It’s hungry and a bit mad.

Kihyun bites at Yoongi’s lower lip and Yoongi parts his mouth, a shiver running through him though he’s warm, too warm. Kihyun’s cold hands sneak under his sweater, sink into the soft flesh of his sides, grab at his shoulders and Yoongi is tired of teasing, he’s tired; his hand makes a fist in Kihyun’s hair and he devours him, tongue lapping at his mouth; Kihyun has the smokey taste of his whiskey.

He’s stronger than he looks, Kihyun; Yoongi is shoved backward, sweater falling off one shoulder, and Kihyun stares, panting, for what seems like eternity. He looks half wrecked, hair in disarray, clothes rumpled, a crazed glint in his dark eyes. Yoongi shivers.

“What is it?”

Kihyun licks his lips, takes a step forward and falls to his knees on the dirty floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m blowing you in a bar bathroom.”

“That’s– that’s classy.”

A bark of a laugh, Kihyun’s head falling forward until it rests against Yoongi’s hip.

“You should shut up.”

Yoongi nods, tangles his fingers in Kihyun’s hair, gentle, this time, and the other nuzzles against his hand, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I never understood why you ran away.”

“I didn’t, either.”

Kihyun nods, one of his fingers hooking over the waistband of Yoongi’s pants, who lets out a shudder. It’s like being with an entirely different person, Yoongi thinks, all urgency forgotten. Kihyun’s gestures are slow and measured, gentle as he kisses one hipbone before dipping lower, tugging on Yoongi’s pants as he goes. Yoongi watches him with fascination, and Kihyun’s beautiful, he realizes, but then again he always was – even as children, something wild and otherworldly to him that couldn’t only be imparted to the sharpness of his features; it was just him, something etched in his being.

A gasp escapes Yoongi as Kihyun pulls his pants down mid-thighs, and he’s there, exposed in the dingy bathroom of a downtown bar. Somewhere he wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all but Kihyun trails his fingernails on the inside of his thighs and it’s a whimper that slips out, a little pathetic; his half-hard cock twitches as Kihyun’s hand trails higher, higher still, and Yoongi stares at his lips as they part and his pink tongue laps at the head of his cock, slick fingers coming up to circle the base, stroking softly.

“Shit, Kihyun.”

Kihyun hums as he takes more of Yoongi into his mouth, sucking hard, and it’s all Yoongi can do not to fuck into his mouth as his grip tightens in Kihyun’s hair, breath caught in his chest, hips buckling. But Kihyun hums again, mouth stretched around Yoongi’s hardening dick, and he nods, once, removing his hands from Yoongi’s hips where he was bracing himself. Yoongi hesitates, not wanting to hurt, but Kihyun takes him deeper still, swallows around his cock, tongue pressing against the underside and something snaps in Yoongi. He thrusts once, tentative, gauging how much Kihyun can take. Everything, it seems; Kihyun grabs at his ass, kneading the soft flesh there, and Yoongi thrusts into his mouth again. There’s no real rhythm, something disjointed, hips snapping and hands fisted in Kihyun’s hair who moans, spit and precum dripping down his chin, and it’s too much, too much.

“Kihyun, I’m–”

A hum again, Kihyun’s eyes closing on tears, and Yoongi’s cock hits the back of his throat once, twice before he spills with a ragged breath, knees buckling.

Kihyun lets him go, wiping his mouth as he swallows, and just stays there, seated back on his haunches, staring. It takes Yoongi too much time to gather his scattered mind, tucking himself back into his pants, and when he gazes back his skin feels too tight, a deep want pooling in his belly, something dark he has no control over. This was a lot. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

“Kihyun. Shit, I…”

Kihyun looks up, hair a mess, lips puffy and pink; Yoongi yanks him up by his collar and kisses him, deep and hungry, but it’s still not enough, he needs to raise a little hell still.

“What is it?”

Kihyun’s voice is raw, breaking over his words. Yoongi’s throat is dry again.

“I just– I– I need you to fuck me.”

Kihyun’s jaw clicks and for a split second Yoongi fears he went too far. This is a stranger, after all, no matter how well they might have known each other in another life. But then there’s a vice grip around his wrist, Kihyun banging the door open and striding out of the bathroom without a word, pulling Yoongi after him. He yells something to the bartender when they pass him, and Yoongi sees the guy giving them a thumbs up. He doesn’t have the time to be mortified, Kihyun ordering him to get his coat on.

“Where are we going?”

“Are you seriously asking me that.”

“Sorry,” Yoongi gets out, just as Kihyun drags him outside.

He had forgotten how cold it was. Kihyun’s fingers fell from his wrist to his hand, never letting go, navigating him through empty streets, and Yoongi stares. He stares at the back of Kihyun’s head, the short hair there, and it’s strange, someone so familiar yet so alien. _Gimme danger, little stranger_ , and Yoongi tugs on the hand in his, once, Kihyun turning to look at him with a question in his eyes before looking back, walking faster when he spots a tall building at the end of the street. Yoongi trails behind, wondering if it’s possible to have missed someone without knowing.

 

**3.**

Yoongi’s back hits a wall again and it’s becoming a habit, he thinks. He tilts his head, allowing more access to Kihyun pressed against him, nipping at the base of his throat, licking and biting the sensitive skin there – Yoongi hopes this will somehow leave a bruise. It’s when Kihyun’s hands dip in his pants again that he grabs at his wrists, kissing the corner of his mouth as he pushes him back.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just. I wanna look at you.”

Kihyun stares, before freeing his wrists from Yoongi’s grasp. He keeps his gaze steady as he takes a few steps back in the bedroom, until his shins hit the bed. And then, he starts to undress.

Slowly, almost languidly. His sweater, first, leaving his hair in even more disarray. He’s wearing a thin tank top underneath, and Yoongi can see the shadows of his tattooed skin through the fabric. Kihyun stretches his arms over his head, and the ink there seems to move, glimpses of claws and feathers, a sinuous body amongst volutes of smoke. The arms fall back down, hands unclasping the leather belt resting on Kihyun’s hips. There’s a crown of thorns on the right hand, words over the knuckles Yoongi’s too far to decipher, the middle finger blackened. They look rough, those hands, but Yoongi knows their touch, and as the fingers brush against Kihyun’s own hips as he tugs his belt away, it’s Yoongi who shivers.

Kihyun shrugs out of his pants with an unfair grace, tugging the tank top over his head. There’s a snarling tiger resting on his hipbone, half hidden by his underwear, and Yoongi’s gaze trails over his chest, catching on the white crane spreading his wings over his left shoulder, before settling on his face.

“Kihyun–”

Kihyun smiles, licking his lips before he sheds the last of his clothes. Yoongi’s breath catches in his throat as he stares, stares at Kihyun, naked and hard on the edge of the bed. He needs to touch, and he does, with a silence almost reverent. Gentle fingers trail over sharp collarbones, dip in the knots of Kihyun’s shoulders, down his sides as he shivers; grip at his hips and Yoongi kneels as in prayer, kissing the soft flesh of Kihyun’s thighs.

Kihyun threads his hand in Yoongi’s hair, kneeling in turn; he removes his glasses, gently, and when they kiss it’s soft like an afterthought, Yoongi melting against Kihyun’s naked body, hands following the slope of his back, kneading the flesh of his ass, and he leans back, looking at Kihyun’s face. He closed his eyes, entirely surrendered, and Yoongi plants a kiss at the corner of his mouth, framing his face in his hands, dipping to nip at the studs in Kihyun’s ear, softly biting his lobe as he tugs on his hair, drawing out a chocked sort of moan from the other.

“I didn’t– I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Kihyun smiles, eyes still closed, and Yoongi continues his ministrations, finding a sensitive spot behind Kihyun’s ear, dipping his head back so he can nip as his throat.

“I knew, ah, I knew who you were as soon as you sat down. I just pretended I didn’t because I wanted to know if you, shit, Yoongi, if you remembered me.”

“How could I not, you were my first love.”

Kihyun grabs at Yoongi’s wrists, gently, his tattooed skin a stark contrast against Yoongi’s too-pale one. His dark eyes open and it’s almost too much, the way he stares back.

“So you’re really out here saying stuff like that?”

Yoongi laughs, kissing the smile off Kihyun’s mouth, and Kihyun presses against him, warm and needy.

“We need to get you out of these fucking clothes.”

Yoongi almost scrambles back, and Kihyun raises and eyebrow at him, hands stilled in the air.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just.”

Yoongi deflates, and it’s with slow hands that he takes off his too-big sweater; he knows what he must look like, he stared enough times in the mirror, stared at his bony shoulders and his scrawny chest, at the disappointingly soft flesh of his belly. The cold air that hit his back makes his shiver and he warily looks up through his fringe, at Kihyun who’s smiling, smiling at him.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing. Can I touch you?”

“Isn’t that what we’re here for?”

A nod, and there’s a shift in the atmosphere, even Yoongi can feel it. Kihyun ceased smiling, instead getting up, extending a hand to Yoongi and he’s led to the bed, pushed down on his back as Kihyun climbs over him. Kihyun kisses his shoulders, nips at his collarbones, taking his time to travel, lingering at soft spots, drawing little punched-out moans from Yoongi and maybe it isn’t so bad, maybe he can let go for a while, forget about the reflection in the mirror and something aching clenches in his chest as Kihyun reverently touches him. It’s only when Kihyun licks past his navel that he realizes how painfully hard he is, and his hips buckle with a soft moan as deft fingers slip beneath his waistband.

But Kihyun takes his damn time, he really does, staring at Yoongi’s face as he rids him of his pants, drawing patterns on his hipbones, watching him squirm, cock straining in his underwear as he softly bites the inside of his thighs.

“Kihyun, fucking hell–”

“Yeah, yeah, impatient much?”

And finally, finally he is free. His underwear joins the haphazardly thrown clothes on Kihyun’s bedroom floor and Yoongi’s exposed on the bed, laying on his back. Suddenly it seems as if he’s watching the scene from outside his body, and his face bursts into flames. Kihyun chuckles.

“Cute.”

“What?”

“You’re embarrassed.”

“Shut up.”

“Mh-mh.”

Kihyun dips, lower and lower, and Yoongi’s breath itches in his chest; Kihyun’s wet tongue swipes at his cock once, twice, before he sucks the head into his mouth almost lazily, and Yoongi arches off the bed in an effort to get more, more, but Kihyun shoves him back down, all touches leaving his body as he reaches for the bedtable. Something plastic lands on Yoongi’s chest not a second later.

“I want to watch you.”

Kihyun’s voice sounds dark, almost strained; Yoongi sits up, the bottle of lube falling to his lap. Kihyun is seated at the edge of the bed, the light they left on in the corridor bathing his golden skin in a soft glow. He looks almost ethereal, like this, and Yoongi can only nod, shifting to kneel on the bed. Kihyun’s breath itches as the bottle snaps open and Yoongi makes a show of coating his fingers, relishing at the sight of Kihyun following his every move.

His fingers feel cold when he presses them against himself, and an involuntary shudder goes through him, a gasp escaping as he pushes the first digit inside. He moves slowly, adjusting to the stretch; when he looks back at Kihyun his eyes are dark, lips slightly parted, and Yoongi can see his cock twitch.

“Come– cover over here.”

“What?”

A second finger, and Yoongi whines low in his throat.

“Fucking come here, Kihyun.”

Kihyun scrambles up the bed and Yoongi grabs him as soon as he’s within reach, kissing him hard; he starts to move his hips, riding his fingers harder as he adds a third, waiting for the burn of the stretch to subside. Kihyun gasps, and Yoongi’s free hand drops to his lap; he fists Kihyun’s cock, stroking in sync with the rhythm of his hips.

“Fuck, Yoongi, hey–”

Yoongi’s loosing his mind a bit.

“Mmnh?”

“You’re too, ah, fuck, hey, I need to fuck you now, I really do.”

Yoongi only nods, pulling the fingers out of himself; he can hear the rip of the condom’s package, and there’s a moment of hesitation where he doesn’t know what to do with himself – there’s this sensation of watching from the outside again, and he sees himself, small and awkward on this stranger’s bed, a stranger who isn’t really one, and he’s floating in this too big room, no way to get back to himself.

“You alright?”

Kihyun’s back at his side, and he’s warm and beautiful. Yoongi stares, lifting a finger to trace the swirls of ink on his skin, the white wings falling over his breast, and he wants to feel, he wants to feel him; there’s a slow, absent smile blooming on his lips as he nods, and Kihyun pushes him back down on the bed, slow and easy. Yoongi closes his eyes as Kihyun spreads his legs, planting a kiss on each thigh; there’s a moment of anticipation, Kihyun stilling a split second before Yoongi can feel his cock pushing in – a strained cry from him and Kihyun stills again but Yoongi needs more, more, and he arches, twisting.

“Kihyun, I, just, it’s fine, come on.”

Kihyun thrusts in, and Yoongi cries out again, before he’s left empty and wanting. Kihyun pulls out and there’s a cry of frustration Yoongi doesn’t even recognize as his, and Kihyun’s chuckling, he is, chuckling as he thrusts in again and his voice breaks.

“You can– you can go harder.”

“Oh yeah?”

But he pulls out again and Yoongi’s this close to snap, thrashing faintly on the bed, Kihyun pushing down on his hips, he’s done, he really is.

“Stop fucking–”

But Kihyun slams into him and he stays there this time, snapping his hips in an erratic rhythm, ripping strangled moans from Yoongi’s throat. Yoongi’s fully inhabiting his body now, each thrust anchoring him deeper into his own flesh; his mind reels to a stop and that’s it, he’s only a body, a feeling entity, and Kihyun is all that there is.

But he needs more, his arousal straining painfully between their bodies; when he reaches down Kihyun slaps his hand away, replacing it with his own as he thrust in harder, and something ruptures in Yoongi’s mind but he has no more breath left to scream. Instead he rakes Kihyun’s back with his nails, jerking his hips as if it could somehow get him more, incoherent noises falling from his lips. His cock’s leaking, he can feel it slick between them, and he’s going to come, he knows that, the muscles of his abdomen contracting but not yet, not yet, and maybe Kihyun knows too as the hand on his dick squeezes harder at the base, his hips snapping, fucking into Yoongi, the sound of skin against skin and breathless moans filling his ears and his heart might burst as Kihyun slams into him, into him, into him again and again, into that spot that breaks his body apart and he jerks, once, as the hand leaves his cock, he jerks and he comes in white spurts over his own belly as Kihyun watches with his dark eyes, and he’s so beautiful, he’s so – and Kihyun stills, body racked by a deep shudder and Yoongi can feel his cock pulse inside him as he comes.

 

**4.**

Kihyun fell boneless against him, and stayed there, warm and sticky, after they barely cleaned up the mess they made. Yoongi lays on his back, a dull throb coursing through his body, staring at the darkened ceiling. He listens to Kihyun’s quiet breathing, tries to feel his presence next to him, as if his body could expand to encompass all that there is. All of Kihyun.

“Remember, when we were kids, and we slept at that guy’s house?”

Yoongi nods, tries to find his voice lost somewhere in his throat.

“I don’t want to be reminded you were once a fifteen-year-old.”

A hand clasps around his wrist, Kihyun nestling more comfortably against the mattress. Against him.

“I was once a _baby_.”

“Shut the fuck up, Yoo Kihyun.”

A laugh, and yes, this sounds like something he missed. Something achingly familiar that he didn’t know had left a hole, when he lost it.

“Alright, alright.”

Yoongi wonders if maybe he should leave. Wait for Kihyun to fall asleep, slip out in the night like a thief. After all, isn’t that what people usually do?

“Kihyun?”

“Yeah?”

“Should I leave?”

“Do you want to?”

Yoongi stares harder at the ceiling, as if it would yield under his gaze and give him the answers he needs.

“I don’t know. I was, I was really in love with you, you know. At that time.”

He feels Kihyun nod against his shoulder, soft hair brushing his skin. Yoongi’s filled with sadness, for some reason, and he wishes Kihyun would either kick him out or hold him closer.

“And… I was scared you weren’t. I kissed you, and you looked terribly scared, and I just… I don’t know. I just left.”

“I loved you, too.”

It’s Yoongi’s turn to nod, eyes still riveted to the ceiling, and he wonders what could have happened, had he been less of a coward. If their lives would have been any different. But maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything; it is too easy to grow apart, after all, and they were so young, so very young.

He turns on his side and Kihyun welcomes him against his chest, threading gentle fingers in his hair; Yoongi closes his eyes with a sigh.

“Would you believe me, if I told you that I missed you?”

“Yeah, I would.”

Yoongi draws patterns on Kihyun’s skin, following the swirls and dips of the ink etched there, and he wants to taste him again, he realizes, he wants this to be his.

“If I stay.”

“Yeah?”

“If I stay, I think. I think I could love you again.”

“Stay, then.”

 

_Raise my fears, one more time;_

_come on little stranger,_

_die a little later._

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I actually used [Kyo](https://i.ibb.co/Ss2kKr3/tat3.jpg) as a [reference](https://i.ibb.co/MMdGnRk/tat2.jpg) for [Kihyun](https://i.ibb.co/3Bgc90N/tat4.jpg)'s [tattoos](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CWa8yD4WoAAGJK-.jpg) because I'm unoriginal like that but of course you're free to picture whatever floats your boat.
> 
> Song is "Gimme danger" by Iggy and the Stooges but you guys should watch the [Ewan McGregor version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VaDdH9Pqwq8) from the movie Velvet Goldmine.


End file.
